A changing punishment
by yellow 14
Summary: Umbridge is punished for her actions at Hogwart's in an unusual manner. A response to Umbridge's Comeuppance Prompts by Blackwolf-20 on the HPFC.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I could never produce characters as wonderful as those JK produced. No I don't own.

AN: This was created as a response to Umbridge's Comeuppance Prompts by Blackwolf-20. Enjoy.

There was a creak on the floor and Umbridge woke suddenly with a start. Still half-asleep, she scanned the room, wand in hand.

"Who's there?" she demanded squeakily. "Be warned that I am a Ministry official and have the full protection of the Ministry and the backing of the Minister himself!"

A dark-cloaked dementor-like figure emerged from the darkness and with a wave, Umbridge's wand was sent flying away to clatter to a halt in the corner.

"I do not fear the Ministry or the Minister. Such trivial people do not concern me," the figure said in an eerie voice that sent shivers down Umbridge's spine. "I am only interested in fairness."

"I am a loyal and law-abiding member of the min-"

"You illegally sent two dementors to attack Harry Potter. Your cruel and unpleasant punishments were both excessive and wrong. Do not pretend to be a good person Miss Umbridge," the figure interrupted and it waved a hand. "Now for your punishment."

"PUNISHMENT!" Umbridge shrieked. "I was working for the Ministries be-" the rest of her sentence vanished as she suddenly began to change shape.

"This should be fun," the figure said with a chuckle. "A lot of fun indeed."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Where AM I?" Umbridge asked as she landed with a thump.

"At Hogwarts of course," answered a voice she didn't recognise. "A better question would be WHAT are you?"

"What do you mean, what am I? I am Delores Umbridge, Secretary to the Minister for ma-"

"Not at the moment you're not," the voice cut in. Umbridge looked around at the slightly wet floor and the closed cubicle door.

"WHAT DID HE TURN ME INTO!" she screeched.

"You, my dear Delores Umbridge, are currently residing as a toilet of Hogwarts in both the boys and girls bathrooms. The students know where to find you, so what they do next should prove to be interesting," the voice said with a chuckle. "Bye-bye my dear."

"Don't you dare wa-" Umbridge suddenly paused as a shadow fell across her face as someone entered the cubicle.

"Well, well, Professor Umbridge. Revenge IS sweet," said Harry as he sat down with a clunk. Umbridge could feel his weight as it slammed onto her head. But what followed was even worse. A solid lump splashed into her head (or should it be bowl, she wondered to herself) and suddenly she could taste exactly what Harry had done. Harry stood up and although she couldn't see him, she could feel him surveying the results with some glee.

"That's for sending the dementors after me. And what I thought of your lessons. And your stupid blood quill," he said with a smile in his tone. "Enjoy being a toilet."

And with that last statement, he flushed and Umbridge could feel herself swallowing the contents. Silly boy, she had been an excellent teacher, following the Ministry curriculum. She only wanted what was best for them, surely most people saw that?

Unfortunately it seemed that most of the students agreed with him. There was a never-ending queue (or so it seemed) of students who came to express their…opinion of her. Some of them were definitely unexpected, like Theodore Nott (who kicked the bowl after using her. Apparently he hated seeing really stupid tactics like hers.) Others, like Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were very much expected.

"When I get out of here I'll make EACH and EVERY one of you pay," she growled. Nobody heard her of course, her voice was completely inaudible. In fact it seemed to encourage them. By the end of the day, Umbridge was very relieved that the day was over. At least, with curfew in effect, she wouldn't have any visitors. Or so she thought.

"Hello Delores," the familiar voice of Professor McGonagol said and the tone made Umbridge feel distinctly worried. Suddenly a foul mixture of used cat litter and mouldy cat food splashed into her bowl.

"I do so hope you enjoy my thoughts about your teaching," McGonagol added. "Really I do."

Umbridge was given an even worse concoction by Professor Snape (who used her to dispose of possibly the foulest tasting potion she'd ever known.

"I don't know what it is, but I'm fairly sure it isn't poisonous. More or less," he said as he stood over her. "It's something one of my third-year students made by mistake and I thought it might…suit you."

The rest of the Professors staff seem to take great pleasure in taking their revenge on Umbridge (she was sure that Hagrid almost broke her), but there was one notable exception.

"I reckon you were the greatest thing to 'appen ter this school," Filch said as he cleaned her bowl with gentle affection. "Now yer gone, I'm back ter having to give out detentions, instead of being able ter whip 'em."

In spite of everything, Umbridge almost smiled. Or rather, she would have done if she could. At least someone appreciated what she had done!

As the sun rose, she was suddenly enveloped by a grey cloud and suddenly she was face to face with the mysterious figure once more.

"Did you enjoy being a toilet Delores Umbridge?" the figure asked in what should have been a sarcastic voice, but sounded rather flat.

"It was horrible! All the good I tried to do and hardly anyone app-"

"It's time for your next transformation Delores Umbridge," the figure interrupted and it waved its hand once more. And once more, Delores Umbridge changed shape.

AN: Okay, not an easy one to write. Not one of my better ones either. Hopefully the next chapter will be an improvement.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See page one. Now buzz off and read the chapter.

As the spell took effect, Umbridge felt her head slowly expand like a balloon. Her ears felt like they were popping and her legs were shrinking away into tiny stumps.

"You've turned me into a toilet again, haven't you?" she asked and the figure shook his head.

"Oh no," the figure said. "I prefer to be…inventive."

"Then what am I? Tell me!" she demanded angrily. "Tell me or I'll see you sent to Azkaban!"

"Send me to Azkaban? I think you've waved that threat about quite a lot haven't you?" the figure said with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "You can't actually DO anything to me. Or do I need to remind you what I am?"

"Now listen he-" Umbridge was cut off when her mysterious attacker vanished and light suddenly flooded in and the face of Professor Slughorn appeared. Leaning over, he grabbed her by the handle and picked her up, looking at her with a mixture of disgust and interest.

"You must be Delores Umbridge's latest incarnation I presume?" he asked and Umbridge glared. "There's no point glaring like that, I need all my cauldrons available for my third-years."

"A potions cauldron? You're losing your touch," Umbridge murmured with a smirk. After all, how could being a cauldron be anywhere near as bad as being a toilet? The bell rang and the first class of the day walked in.

"Come in, come in children, quietly if you please," Slughorn said over the bustle of the class. "Take your places, I'm sure you know where they are. No not there Rashing."

"You should learn to discipline your class," Umbridge hissed as she watched the class file in. "You are the teacher, you're supposed to enforce discipline! Like I did!"

Professor Slughorn didn't seem to have heard her, but he did give a strange sideways look.

"Today, we will be working on the thickening potion," he said to the class. There was a tap and Umbridge could hear the sound of chalk writing. "Here is a set of instructions. See what you can make of it and I'll come around later to examine the results."

The first hint that Umbridge received that being a cauldron might not be as easy as she thought was when the student using her poured in a litre of dragon gland secretions. Suddenly her head felt as though it was on fire. On the inside. She was sure it was burning her brains away.

"Stop, stop, stop!" she screeched, but the boy didn't appear to hear her and it got worse. Whoever it was, had absolutely no talent at potions, as the contents began to solidify into something reminiscent of tar and by Merlin it tasted awful. It was like…someone mixing vomit-flavoured every-flavour beans with glue and gum. If she could vomit, Umbridge was sure that she would.

"Professor I think I need some help over here!" the boy called out and Umbridge growled.

"A little help? A LITTLE HELP! You imbecile!" she screamed, but nobody seemed to hear her. "If you were in my class-"

"He wouldn't be allowed to do anything practical at all," a familiar voice cut in, interrupting her rant. "He'd just sit there, never learning from his mistakes, never doing anything."

"It couldn't be worse than th-" Umbridge's rant was suddenly cut off as her mouth suddenly felt as though the potion had wielded it shut.

"Sorry, I can't hear you," the voice said with amusement and Umbridge was sure that he was smiling. "Bye, bye."

"Oh dear. I see you added chizpurple carapaces instead of acorns. That was where you went wrong my dear boy," Slughorn said as he stood over here. He waved his wand. "I want an essay from you for your next potions class on the correct way to make this potion. It will be certainly more productive than your staring hopelessly at Mary Ashkin."

"But si-"

"No buts. You should focus on my class and save your crushes for another time. Now off with you, I have another class," Slughorn said as the bell rang.

The next class was a group of first years, which was nowhere near as bad as the third years. At least, until the sloppy, badly made potion began to taste like oil. And somehow managed to catch fire. It made her feel a lot like she was being cooked. On the inside.

"Thomas Verno, can you please explain to me why your cauldron now resembles a torch?" Professor Slughorn demanded angrily.

"I don't know sir," the boy murmured to the floor. There was a sudden cooling sensation and Umbridge was sure that the fire had been put out.

"Then you will turn in a fifteen thousand word essay on what you suspect may have gone wrong," Slughorn said firmly.

The next class was a class of seventh years preparing for their NEWTS and they were brewing the draught of living death. Although the student using her was definitely very skilled as a potions-maker, the effect the potion was having on her was somewhat less pleasant. Actually it made her feel a lot like death warmed up.

After a break between classes, there came the worse class yet. When Professor Slughorn's fourth years walked into the class, she was unaware of just how bad the student assigned to her was. Until a corrosive burning feeling hit her cheeks, (or at least, what felt like her cheeks) that she began to realise that she was in fact, melting. It felt like a rather bad case of _diarrhoea at first. Then she felt her head slowly slop downwards and expand. Strangest of all was when she felt her eyes flow down her face. _

_"Oh dear. I'm afraid I must ask you to stay after class Mister Spinkle," Slughorn said sadly. "We'll go over what you did wrong then."_

_"Yes sir," the boy said sadly with a despondent look._

_"He should be putting you in detention for damaging such a priceless cauldron!" Umbridge screeched, but they didn't appear to hear her and suddenly Professor Slughorn picked her up and tossed her into a bin, which slammed shut with a clang that made her ears ring._

_"Oh dear. That WAS unfortunate," a familiar voice said and Umbridge scowled._

_"When this is over, I'm going to find you and your accomplices and make you, and everyone in this school pay for this!" she hissed. "Surrender now and it'll go better for you at the Wizengamot."_

_"Why my dear Delores, I wouldn't make threats you cannot possibly keep," the figure said with an amused laugh and with a wave of his hand, Umbridge felt her body change shape once more. _


End file.
